family.

[ txt : den ] also u dont remember last weekend when i sucked u off so good u had tears in ur eyes??? ring any bells?

[ sms : jin ] god i fucking hate you sometimes

[ sms : jin ] fine. i'll come pick you up jesus

frank… have.. to get to frank.

even with eyes accustomed to the darkness of the night and years of training his body to endure even the most extreme of injuries, bruce could only makeout blurry shapes and the star-like disorientation of the street lights around him. they burn. the sweat from his forehead must have saturated the dark around his eyes. ( blood can be seen dripping from behind the socket of his mask. a droplet clinging to his right eye’s top lash. )

a sickening anxiety churns within his stomach as he drags himself closer to the front door of a lover, who is sure to be very unhappy with the condition that the bat finds himself in. left forearm is wrapped around his abdomen gloved hand applying, albeit weakening, pressure to the gash wound at his side carved by a knife-throwing gotham rogue in the heat of battle. certainly not an immediate thread to his life but at the same time, it wasn’t one that could wait until the bat cave. had it not been for the artificial adrenaline he had pumping through him he may not have even had the chance to get to frank.

i return from the kitchen with another cup of tea, setting it down on my coffee table when i hear a thud from my front door. i'm about to ignore it, write it off as someone in the hallway, but then it happens again. a knock, then more in rapid succession. i approach the door hesitantly at first, peeking through the peep hole once i'm close enough. once my eyes lock on the visitor my stomach drops, heart lurching up into my throat as i see bruce standing tattered and bloody outside of my front door. i unlock the door without even thinking, throwing the door open with wide eyes.

[ text : frankie ] i can. think i got an extra helmet somewhere in the shop...

[ sms : duke ] can't believe i'm actually getting on that death trap of yours

[ sms : duke ] don't you have a car or something?

[ sms : duke ] no, i haven't eaten. taking me out to dinner?

SMOOCHES ft. doc moretti

they're nearing the end of gone with the wind, he can tell by the dialogue alone, another one of marco's favourites that he's subjecting caleb to, working their way slowly through their own personal criterion closet. it's the perfect end to an evening, really. empty wine glasses and dinner plates that marco hasn't yet endeavoured to get up and clean remain on the nightstands - he wants to stay right here, in bed and comfortable and content.

Mallory was embarrassed to be here, but she felt like there was no other choice, especially after Lisa urged her from across the country to visit the emergency room. She felt stupid. Ashamed, even. She was trying to test going out so that she could prepare for a trip to Pasadena to see her boyfriend, Tanner, but of course, Mallory's anxiety had gotten ahead of herself. A run in with an old classmate, an overcrowded grocery store, and a stressful drive back to her house had sent her into a panic attack that required her emergency medication. But when that didn't work, Lisa talked her into going to the emergency room.

The chaos of the waiting room didn't help much, but her color-drained face, quiet gasps for air, and the sweat that had accumulated against her forehead had gotten her a pass to the head of the line and she was in the back within half an hour.

She felt slightly more at ease when she was in a room, the nurse talking gently with her as she hooked her up to monitors and checked her vitals. When @prodigalmd walked in and introduced himself, she managed to mumble her first name before the nurse gave him a briefing.

Thirty-two year old female describing what seems to be the symptoms of a panic attack. Said she suffers from diagnosed agoraphobia. She took 30 mg of Buspirone an hour ago, but the symptoms haven't improved.

"I-I was trying branching out because I'm supposed to be visiting my boyfriend in two weeks," she explained with a feebly attempt at a smile around uneven breaths. "F-Figured the grocery store was a smaller step than the airport..."

unspecified starter call / accepting!

"alright, mallory." i nudge the small rolling stool towards her bedside, taking a seat next to her, but not too close. i nod as she explains the trip to visit her boyfriend, that she was trying to branch out and try a trip to the grocery store before hopping on a plane. "kinda like uh, exposure therapy, right? one step at a time." i keep my words light, my posture relaxed, palms resting on my thighs. "i get panic attacks too, y'know." it still feels foreign, opening up like this, being vulnerable. sometimes it feels like a cheap attempt at forcing a patient to relate to me, but i just want them to feel comfortable with me.

i would ask you how you’ve been, but it’s all over the internet.

if you’re looking for an autopsy or a half-assed half-apology, you picked the wrong time to make this call.

it’s not irrelevant that you stopped taking your medicine.

but it’s cold.

i don’t know, i’m alone.

there ain’t no shame in calling it quits.

you’re a ghost.

you’re poison spreading into my lungs.

i ain’t holding my breath or any faith at all.

i’ll pray for you, be in pain for you.

i’ll leave the porch light on.

you act like we just sit up here and wait for you to reappear.

i want to see you lose it.

i want to hear you say it.

i want to know the dark that i share a brain with.

do you still have a heart or did somebody steal it?

i’m far too tired to watch you lie.

another thing we don’t talk about anymore.

don’t worry, i won’t bring it up.

when i ask about the past, you deny it.

we’re both exhausted for different reasons.

i used to care to know your secrets.

you said you got a guilty conscience, but i ain’t ever seen it.

you can scream at me when i come home.

i always wish you well.

it’s gone to shit without you.

it was shit before, but at least i had you.

there ain’t nothing to report.

i’ve been taking your advice.

if i see one more cybertruck, i swear to god i’m gonna floor it.

i need somebody here to talk me out of things i can’t undo.

saw the world from up close, it ain’t much to look at.

i can’t make myself whole, most days i’d be lucky just to get half.

you’ve seen me in places so low, you can recognize when it’s real bad.

i used to hate the silence.

used to make me think about the old days.

i love you and i can’t fake that for a moment.

we go way back.

tell me that i have substance, that i’m important.

i’m always trying to run from what i’m known for.

gambling with the sun on which one of us dies young.

i ain’t afraid to hold the gun.

wipe your hands and wash your face.

you can fuck up all you want and blame it on your dad.

i want to be you, but i don’t want to be that.

where i’m from and what i’m worth have gotten too damn intertwined.

fuck it, i might even disappear.

i hope you’ve had a decent time.

gonna be rich in our own way.

i swear you’re gonna get it, kid.

they didn’t look scared at all.

tell me when it feels like you can’t escape me.

i’m just happy you still call.

some things live forever, even when they die.

everyone looks happy in a photograph.

i’m always on my own.

maybe i’m manic again.

i think this time i’m out for good.

this ain’t mine anymore.

i made too much goddamn noise.

i’m done staring at the void.

i was high when i met you.

life was something to get through.

we’re too old for both of us to keep howling at the moon.

oh my, what a time to be alive.

tell me, love, if the devil ever comes, to make good on the debts that i owe.

tell the stories i would tell.

make a few of your own.

i was afraid you might wake up and remember who i am, and what i’ve done.

i grew up with a feeling that what’s good must be fleeting.

some will never know they’re beautiful until the crowd points it out for them.

i’m on alien ground.

i’m an astronaut, you’re the moon.

even god is trying to warn you, all this ain’t for you.

i’m an aging wolf who lost the taste for blood.

i’m gonna lose you either way.

everybody’s asleep,  let’s talk about it.

you’ve been the best five minutes of a shitty year.

we’re so alone most of the time.

where do we go when we die?

i wouldn’t mind right here.

you told me how unfair it is, that i have what i have and you got what you got.

i’d give it all back if i could, i cannot.

i hated the way i made it all about me.

every day from back then is like a bad dream.

hey, that’s us.

you and i will be found.